


Red

by Aria_Faye



Series: Full Spectrum [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 12:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25849504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Faye/pseuds/Aria_Faye
Summary: They fought like this sometimes. It was the same way they did everything else—totally, like warfare.
Relationships: Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Full Spectrum [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875676
Kudos: 25





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends. This is the fourth in a series of seven 500-word-or-less pieces that all center around the same topic. They were initially my application pieces for the Prism Victurio zine - we had to write brand-new material, no more than 500 words apiece, inspired by color. They take place in an ambiguous future in which Yuri Plisetsky is of majority age, and I'm posting them in the order that I wrote them rather than the order in which they occur. Feel free to shuffle things around to your liking in your head!
> 
> Each color that we worked with had a distinct feeling that we had to pull into the writing. Red is for burning. Passion, both in love and in anger. Strong emotions that aren't always easy to control.

They fought like this sometimes. It was the same way they did everything else—totally, like warfare. They’d scream multilingual obscenities through slamming doors, around flying objects. It didn’t even matter what had upset them—their fights were brutal things, a clashing of fire and ice that razed everything to the ground. Apocalyptic clarity.

Yuri had a box in his hands, gold medals. Some were his; most Victor’s. Not that it mattered when they were all being hurled, Gatling, at the closed bedroom door. He shouted between throws, and Victor shouted back—if Victor’s raised, intense voice could even be called shouting at all. Yuri shouted; Victor snarled.

The box ran empty, eventually, and Yuri sagged, finally seeing the damage in their apartment for the first time. The red cleared from his vision, and when Victor finally cracked the bedroom door (quietly, like Victor’s anger), Yuri found himself standing in the rubble of their latest attempt at utopia, his hands bloody, feet dusty. Victor had a black eye. One of the medals must have—

“I just really fucking need you, okay?” Yuri said, and he was crying now, ugly and blotched. Tears tickling their way down his nose. “You’re never there when I need you, you fucker. You goddamn motherfucking—”

Victor hushed him gently. Opened his arms. Yuri cried.

He didn’t even realize he was working Victor out of his clothes until his hands were in Victor’s pants. Victor knew when it hit him, because he took Yuri’s chin in his fingers like a wine glass and bit his mouth hard. Not quite a kiss. Leaving enough room for Yuri to back away if he wanted.

Except Yuri bit back.

They shoved each other through the broken shards of a life on the floor, bandaged feet scraping cracked figurines, the spines of books. It somehow seemed fitting that they sink to the ground then, right there. In the middle of all their detritus and the dander of their fury. Victor tugged Yuri’s shirt over his head, and Yuri clawed at Victor’s freshly-bare thighs. Threw his head back so Victor could take chunks out of his chest, raw and animalistic. Hard arcades of tooth, the occasional pearl of blood.

They touched like this sometimes. Like warfare. Like everything else in their lives, it was total. Scratching and snapping their way closer in between whispers that sounded like adoration—apology. “I’m sorry, my love,” Victor didn’t need to say. “I’m sorry,” in the way he sucked at Yuri’s neck. Wordless, violent.

“I don’t know why I love you.”

“I don’t know why you do either.”

“But I do.”

“Me too. I love you too.”

“…Victor—”

“I’m here.”


End file.
